


Res Ipsa Loquitur

by Fudgyokra



Series: Kinktober 2019 [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Double Dating, Dubious Consent, Formalwear, Humor, M/M, POV Multiple, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Under The Table Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 01:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: Jason didn’t know why he was doing this. Sitting at a fancy restaurant table dressed to the nines beside one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals, that is.





	Res Ipsa Loquitur

**Author's Note:**

> This was written and edited super quickly, so sorry for the quality. Oof.
> 
> Day 19: Public* | Formal Wear* | Straitjacket | Cock-Warming

Jason didn’t know why he was doing this. Sitting at a fancy restaurant table dressed to the nines beside one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals, that is. And the worst part, at least from his point of view, was that he had agreed to this damn outing Roman kept calling a date of his own volition, no blackmail needed. The only logical excuse was that he had gone to bed with a concussion one day or something and woke up a different person.

“Don’t look now,” Roman said, using a tone that immediately got Jason to look, “because you’re never going to guess who just walked in.”

To Roman’s credit, he was completely right about Jason not being able to guess, because once he turned his face toward the open archway leading to the dining area, the last people on earth he thought he would see were Deathstroke the Terminator and Jason’s own not-brother, Dick Grayson. He hadn’t expected to see them at this kind of swanky establishment by themselves, let alone together.

And, boy, were they together. Dick must have had the same idea of “public privacy” that Jason did, because the way he wormed his hand beneath Slade’s jacket and tugged him down to whisper in his ear was nowhere close to a business-casual kind of touch.

Jason scrubbed his hands down his face, hoping the stimulation would magically make this nightmare disappear. Contrarily, of course, Roman made things worse. Before measures could be taken to shoot out the man’s kneecaps or something equally worthy of the bullshit he pulled when he stood up to wave, Jason realized with a whole new sense of horror that he was beckoning the others to their table.

On the bright side, Dick looked as whole-heartedly terrified to see familiar people as Jason had, making a face he would commit to memory whenever he felt like messing with him. Would serve the prettyboy right. But, then, Jason was in the same boat when Slade pulled him over, forcing the four of them through painful, unnecessary introductions for the sake of posterity. Too much hand-shaking, too many fake smiles.

Things didn’t get any better once Slade and Dick sat, chairs pulled too close to each other as if they _wanted _to give Jason heart palpitations. The matter of Dick’s appearance, gala-sleek instead of his typical style, set Jason on edge in a peculiar way. A three-piece black suit with a good tailoring job paired too nicely with the smile he flashed him, even if they both knew it was fake. Worse, since Bruce wasn’t around to complain about Dick’s hair, it was worn in the same unruly, boyish way as usual, and Jason couldn’t seem to regain control of his faculties enough to remember not to stare.

He had been gallivanting around the gutters of Gotham for long stretches of time lately, hanging around in Roman’s territory under a dozen different guises to keep suspicion off his trail. He wasn’t keen on anyone in the family finding out about what he and Roman did behind closed doors, but it looked like the point had become abruptly and humiliatingly moot. Not to mention that the avoidance had a little to do with an uncomfortable attraction to certain parties he really wished weren’t here right now.

“Jason.”

A hand settled on his knee, then crept slowly up his thigh. His own suit was, in his opinion, hideous—a burgundy, poorly-disguised excuse for Roman to doll him up how he liked—but it was at least enough to detract from the flush creeping across his face. He hoped.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out there for a second,” he answered, resisting the urge to stab Roman with a fork. That wouldn’t have gone over too well for him, anyway, if he had. The last thing he needed heaped onto this bitch of an evening was a night of being strapped down and punished for such an indiscretion. “Were we talking about something important?”

“Bless him,” Roman said, speaking to their guests. “He’s a bit of an airhead.”

Jason didn’t get the chance to address the insult nor Dick’s pinched expression toward it before Roman’s hand rubbed over the crotch of his pants, grabbing and tugging just enough to make his knee jerk against the bottom of the table with a telling clang of silverware. If the redness in his cheeks wasn’t obvious before, it definitely was now. Although he could have explained it away, he wasn’t dumb enough to think Dick didn’t already know what happened, especially going by the way he averted his gaze and pretended to cough in his napkin.

Slade, for his part, maintained an impassive expression that was infinitely less embarrassing.

“Wine?” Roman offered.

“Fantastic idea,” Slade returned.

Jason let Roman fill his glass and made an immediate grab for it without waiting on the others: As much an excuse to busy his hands as it was to quickly achieve tipsiness. If he was going to deal with Dick’s beseeching gaze on him the entire time, he would need the assistance.

Dinner was ordered without incident, each of them requesting equally complicated dishes with varying levels of pretentious titles. It was the extent of Jason’s reprieve from Roman’s shenanigans.

The minute their waiter trotted away to do business, Jason felt the familiar grip return to his groin, this time in the form of a palm curled possessively over the length of his cock, trapped behind a type of fabric that was _not _good for hiding stains. He knew from experience, which is why he tried to give Roman the most nondescript side-eye he could, only to come to terms with the fact he was being purposefully ignored.

They spent the majority of their public outings with Roman’s hands somewhere inappropriate, usually without onlookers of such personal relations, meaning he was going to take the golden opportunity to obliterate Jason’s ego with all the finesse for which he was known in the criminal underbelly. Roman was sneaky, and unbearably deft with his fingers. It was up to Jason not to squirm under the ministrations, which was akin to walking a tightrope.

Conversation carried on, mainly led by Roman’s business exposition. Slade offered anecdotes when necessary, intermingled with flirtatious banter directed at Dick, whose attention was split between flirting right back and eyeing Jason every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t being molested under the table. He supposed that wasn’t what was happening, considering the list of things he had signed away by fraternizing with Roman in the first place, beginning with bodily autonomy and ending with pride. On occasions like this one, he cursed himself for agreeing to anything that skull-faced jackass said.

The unfortunate part was that it always had to feel so damn _good._ He was already red in the face from the slight in front of Dick without the addition of an erection to make things worse. Steadily, the flush crept down his neck, warmth spreading the longer Roman pressed and rubbed and twisted. Despite Jason’s attempts to discourage his body from reacting, his cock swelled to full size, until it ached against his zipper seam. Roman liked him commando for this reason in particular, not discounting the easy access factor, simply because he liked to cause Jason discomfort.

“He doesn’t talk much,” Slade observed, unhelpfully. When Dick hissed for him to shut up, he took a conveniently large swallow of wine. The subtle flex of the older man’s arm was what drew Jason’s attention first, because Dick pursed his lips a second afterward, and then suddenly had no more to say on the matter. That was odd.

He was beginning to sense that this was some sort of game, and that he should really make an excuse to get out of there. A well-placed moment of bratty behavior would drag Roman home for sure, but something burning hot in Jason’s gut prevented him from taking that route. Curiosity, maybe. Idiotic lust, definitely.

At last, he replied, trying to keep his voice even, “I don’t have a lot to say in such sub-par company.” He even added a snort for good measure, hiding the gulp of anxiety that came after with a sip of his own drink.

“Ouch, Grayson.” It was a tease from Slade that got Jason to stop staring intently at the tablecloth on his end and instead begin watching the nearly imperceptible rustling on the other. “Hear that? Black Mask’s lapdog doesn’t enjoy our presence.”

Dick looked like he was about to snap the stem of his glass in half. Even though he refused to meet Jason’s gaze, at least he could manage a scowl past the obvious signs of what was happening to him beneath the table as well; Jason could only make what probably qualified as a gape while his brain processed the new information with all the speed and grace of a dial-up modem.

Roman seemed altogether unconcerned, like this was a game he was winning all too easily. “Your sense of humor is a delight, Mister Wilson. Although, I suppose he does spend an awful lot of time in my lap.” Now it was his turn to take a strategically long drink when Jason shot him a dirty glare.

He had moved on to squeezing Jason through his pants, the material tight enough to mold around the hardness beneath with a particularly lewd presentation. Already, there was a patch of pre-cum blooming where the tip was. Roman dutifully swirled his thumb over it before setting his glass down and grabbing Jason’s chin, that same thumb hooking easily past his lips to press down on his tongue.

Dumbfounded, Jason let loose a pitiful, “_Gah,_” sound. Slade chuckled across from them.

“Excuse us for a moment, would you?” Roman asked, not at all like he cared for any prospective dissent. “The _dog _and I need to talk shop in private before we continue this gratifying meal.”

When he stood and made for the bathroom, Jason automatically followed. Humiliation thrummed just under the skin, but he counted his lucky stars that he was putting distance between himself and Dick, whose own predicament made Jason’s head swirl with too many emotions and fantasies to process all at once. He felt bad having enjoyed the downright ashamed flicker of Dick’s eyes around the room, looking anywhere but at Jason while Slade toyed with him. Maybe the same way Roman had been toying with him. Maybe worse.

Roman interrupted his shiver by shoving him against the line of counters the moment they made it past the bathroom door. In fact, it was still swinging when hands twisted in his shirt and ripped it open, expensive buttons flying with tiny clacks all over the tile.

There was a quip about skipping straight to dessert resting on the tip of his tongue, but Jason kept it to himself as Roman ravished him right there in plain sight. He figured he could lay on the sass later. For now, though…dessert.

* * *

Dick couldn’t believe where the day had brought him. Out of all his speculations for how things could have gone wrong during his and Slade’s dinner plans, the idea that they would catch Jason with Roman Sionis of all people playing table chicken was not among them. In addition to that particular kick in the face, he didn’t think he would wind up doing the same thing just feet away from someone he could ostensibly refer to as family.

Jason was never his brother, not like how Bruce liked to say when he tried to tie every complicated facet of their relationship into a tidy bow of convenience, but he was still someone far too close for Dick to stomach how Roman touched him, talked to him, or even looked at him. Every time Jason hid a flinch, Dick felt like he was close to bending one of the restaurant’s nice forks into a boomerang.

That was when Slade stepped in with a very annoying plot of his own.

He hardly had time to process the absurdity of Jason and Roman’s less-than-professional relationship before Slade was stirring the pot with his words and fingers alike. A single seed sown in the conversation, alluding to their sex lives; then, careful in its timing, assured to keep Dick’s retort bitten down on as hard as he bit down on his tongue, a hand slipped its way into the back of his pants.

It began with an innocent graze over his tailbone. “Hear that? Black Mask’s lapdog doesn’t enjoy our presence.” Slade’s mouth was so close to his ear that he had to suppress a shudder. It was too obvious, and Jason was _looking _at them, dammit. So, he started to say something.

And then Slade slipped his fingers easily beneath Dick’s ass, pressing against sensitive parts of him as if his entire weight wasn’t enough to convince the man to keep his hands to himself. He was so frazzled he missed part of what Roman said, but some of it rang in his ears like the aftermath of a gunshot.

“—I suppose he does spend an awful lot of time in my lap.”

The way he talked about Jason was crude, horrifying. It boiled Dick’s blood. Still, the image presented itself in fashion with his own terrible sense of timing: Roman sitting back in his office chair, hands on Jason’s hips as he bounced.

Dick didn’t get the chance to snap at Slade for his handling or otherwise blame him for this ridiculous predicament before a finger fought its way inside him, the tip pressing in like the smallest suggestion could keep him from throwing fists at Roman across the table. Shamefully, it worked.

Then Roman was putting his thumb in Jason’s mouth, and things were moving so fast Dick felt as if he couldn’t see straight.

The two of them had barely been gone thirty seconds before Slade’s grin was back at Dick’s ear. “You know what they were doing under the table?”

Two decisions to make: The smart one, and the stupid one. Option number two was a lot simpler than confronting his mish-mosh of feelings, and so, with a soft groan, Dick parted his thighs and leaned back in his chair, allowing Slade proper access with two fingers this time. He had to bite his lip and focus on the pain, to keep from humping into the air in the middle of the very public, very populated establishment.

“Yeah,” he breathed, after several seconds of gathering his voice. “They weren’t exactly subtle.”

“No kidding.” Slade pulled away from Dick’s ear and used his other hand to reach for his wine glass, draining it in seconds while he casually fingered him under the table. “You know what they’re doing right now?”

Not exactly, Dick thought, but he could imagine. He might even like to imagine, not that he could admit that aloud. “I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he said. The monotone he was going for came out instead like he had gargled nails.

They sat at the abandoned table far too long before Slade eventually suggested, without a hint of shame, “We ought to join.”

“_What?_”

By way of explanation: “Dinner and a show.”

Dick tipped his face toward the ceiling and tried to count the smoke spots before he was white-knuckling the sides of his chair and unable to contain the rather loud gasp that tore itself from his throat. Finally, he caved: “Yeah. Yes, let’s go already. Jesus.”

They only attracted a couple of onlookers in their path to the bathroom, left unlocked in spite of the scene they found upon entering. While Dick mentally acclimated to the image of Jason sitting on the counter, bare legs wrapped around Roman’s waist and wide eyes trained right in his direction, Slade shut and locked the door behind them.

“Don’t mind us,” he offered, which unfroze Dick enough for him to clear his throat and cross his arms instead of standing there like a gawking lunatic, “we’re just here for a bathroom break.”

Roman barked a laugh. Jason looked as though he was ready to sink through the floor and disappear. He also looked like quite a mess, pants hooked around one ankle, nice dress shirt hanging from his shoulders with half of the buttons missing, hickeys up and down his torso. Dick could see bite marks and bruises in various stages of healing as well, and shifted his gaze to Roman instead.

Roman, who hadn’t stopped thrusting into Jason’s pliant body for a second, and was even smoking a cigarette like actually pleasuring him mattered that little. Dick found his scowl, then. Like all the times before, Slade stopped him from blowing his fuse with a hand on his lower back, guiding him toward a random stall until, to their collective surprise, Roman waved at them in a vague gesture. “Oh, don’t mind us, either. You can stay and, ah, take a break right here. In fact, I’m sure _someone _would like the attention.”

Jason’s look of horror didn’t suggest that he wanted that at all, but Slade snorted and obliged, dragging Dick back against his body by the collar so he could reach around and undo his buttons right then and there.

He made the mistake of moaning at the proceedings, which seemed to scare Jason right out of his skin. “No way. Fuck off,” he snapped, just shy of a yell. “God, can’t a guy get some fucking privacy in this—” Abruptly, Roman shoved in deeper, leaving Jason with his mouth hanging open around a sharp gasp that made Dick’s cock twitch painfully.

“He’s fine,” Roman mumbled around the filter of his cigarette while he readjusted Jason with both hands, scooting him forward and then shoving him back against the mirror until he was curved on display. Everything was visible, from the trail of bites to the dripping point of his cock resting against his stomach, and even lower, to the brutal thrusts of Roman’s entire length penetrating him over and over.

Dick didn’t even remember when he’d started looking until he had to consciously avert his gaze yet again. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, as if his own body wasn’t responding in kind to the show. The aid of his shirt and jacket coming off didn’t help, as the chilly restaurant air raised goosebumps on his flesh.

He started on his tie, only for Slade to grab his wrists and bend him bodily over the edge of the counter, inches to the side of where Jason and Roman worked. “Leave it,” he mumbled against the shell of his ear, just before moving to bite at his neck.

Again, a moan betrayed him, and Jason followed shortly after. Dick didn’t look up, afraid of locking eyes with him for reasons even he couldn’t fully fight through. Still, the heat of being watched while Slade slipped his pants beneath his hipbones and reached around to grab at his cock made him jerk more readily into the touch than usual.

“Shit,” Jason cursed. “You two are serious.”

“Can’t deny a man a good few mortal pleasures,” Slade put in, as annoying as usual. He unzipped just enough to get himself out of his own pants before he started pushing into Dick’s body, and no force, mortal or otherwise, could have stopped the loud cry Dick gave at the fact. They had given it a whirl earlier in the evening, not too long ago that the leftover lubricant and cum couldn’t slick Slade’s way, but the fact that Jason reacted by spreading his thighs wider for Roman was somehow even filthier.

It seemed to please both Roman and Slade, going by the hum from one and the chuckle from the other. Idly, Roman pushed on Jason’s thigh, the one closest to Dick, and demanded he move it back.

Jason obeyed, planting his foot on the counter and giving Dick a view he genuinely never thought he’d see. The already-complicated emotions in his chest twisted into a knot.

“You wanna suck his cock?” Roman asked, completely unabashedly, before blowing a puff of smoke toward Jason’s bright red face. “Go for it.”

Slade didn’t wait for Dick to give the okay before winding the tie around his fist and yanking back on it, using it as a makeshift leash to drag him higher up the counter. The groan he earned made him snap his hips forward harder, putting stars in Dick’s vision that didn’t clear for a long few seconds.

Once they did, eyesight seemed like an afterthought to instinct, anyway. Slade pushed him by the back of the head toward Jason’s lap, and the only thing Dick could do to keep himself sane was simply to part his lips and allow Jason to buck into his mouth.

Jason twitched the second he landed on Dick’s tongue, his hands scooting across the counter, giving tiny squeaks with how hard he held himself back from fucking Dick’s face in earnest. He was used to that; Slade was by no means gentle or patient, so it was practically second nature for him to relax his throat and sink down Jason’s length to the base, rising back up to suck, then descending again.

Jason groaned beautifully, arching against the counter and driving himself deeper down Dick’s throat.

He might not have understood how circumstances brought them all to this point, but he certainly wasn’t going to deny fate its fun, especially if it meant getting to hear Jason pant above him, stimulated from both Roman’s cock carving him open and Dick’s mouth working on him.

He didn’t last long after Dick began. Obediently, he swallowed him down, rising only to swirl his tongue around the tip and clean him off properly. Behind him, Slade pulled him back by the hips, until Dick was practically on tip-toe, rising to meet each thrust.

“Jesus, kid,” Roman said, punctuated with a low whistle before he tilted his head for another drag of smoke. “Anyone ever tell you you should do porn?”

Slade huffed a laugh while Dick frowned at Roman’s reflection in the mirror. Beside him, Jason was beginning to whimper at the ongoing stimulation Roman subjected him to, and Dick followed his instinct to lace his fingers through Jason’s, pulling the hand closer until Jason relented and allowed the touch. “You’re doing so good,” he praised, ignoring Roman completely. “We should—” he paused to shudder, spreading his legs wider when Slade pushed him down by the shoulder and started going harder— “do this more often.”

The debauched look on Jason’s face was everything. Big shiny eyes, with long lashes fluttering at every bounce on Roman’s cock, the color spreading over his face even darker than before. “But isn’t this…weird?” As if he hadn’t just reached orgasm from Dick’s mouth, he thought with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Isn’t everything we do weird?”

Slade snorted and wrenched Dick’s head up by the hair, to the tune of a choked groan. Tilting further back the barest bit, every roll of Slade’s hips had him rutting against just the right spot, and Dick all but screamed, his one free hand scrambling for purchase on the countertop while his other tightened around Jason’s.

It was the catalyst for the domino effect that followed, beginning with Roman cursing and flicking his cigarette in the sink, yanking Jason forward so that his bottom half hung off the edge and he was forced onto his back with a grunt. He let go of Dick’s hand, both of his own pressing hard against the mirror. With every twist and jerk of his hips, he whined louder.

The fact they were in public seemed wholly unimportant, especially when Jason squeezed his eyes closed and downright sobbed while Roman used him to completion.

A trapped hiss signaled his end, occurring seconds before Slade forced his cock all the way in and rocked his hips against Dick’s, grinding continuously against his prostate until he couldn’t remember how to breathe, or do anything else but spurt messily on the tiles below.

Slade came last, as if waiting for the others. What a gentleman, Dick thought with an internal eye roll he couldn’t quite muster on the outside. He was far too busy panting against the mirror, breath fogging up the lowest edge where he’d been rocked forward. He hadn’t even realized he was about an inch away from a concussion until just now. That would have been difficult to explain to Bruce.

When Roman pulled out and began cleaning himself, Jason’s feet finally touched the ground again, body following on fawn legs. Dick couldn’t help but admire the mess dripping from him, a shiny stream from the tip of his cock, in addition to Roman’s mess painting his inner thighs. The suit he wore was a complete disaster once it was back on his body, covered in various spots and halfway torn, to boot. It was a look that suited Jason: A deep, dark thought Dick would keep to himself.

An aggressive knock at the door had both Bats jumping nearly out of their skin. Answering it was a whole new animal. The four of them filed casually out the door, past the stunned employee who looked torn between blowing a fuse and gaping.

Dick tried to shield his face with his hand, doing his best to keep his gaze forward. Despite his earlier words, he was not keen on doing this again, at least not somewhere so crowded.

Parting ways was somehow even more awkward. Yep, Dick mentally repeated, never happening again. Probably. Maybe. But then Jason finally made eye contact with him, and he couldn’t help but think it __was __a little fun to chance the danger, after all.


End file.
